


Something Tells Me...

by Judayre



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Judy messes with things, Running Away, why do I do these things?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2014-11-25
Packaged: 2017-12-29 06:20:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1002008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Judayre/pseuds/Judayre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where the Shire is a zoo/nature preserve run by Rangers for the education and entertainment of Men, Dwarves, and Elves, Bilbo Baggins needs to run away for his own freedom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from a Simon and Garfunkel song. ("Something tells me it's all happening at the zoo...") Have I mentioned I suck at titles? I do.
> 
> This is an idea that popped up out of nowhere and said "Hi! You're going to write me because I make no sense at all and you don't like things to make no sense!" So here it is. Because I have no control over my own brain.
> 
> I don't know if I will continue it.... There are some bits floating around my brain, especially as concerns the setting. If anyone is actually interested in this and doesn't just side eye it and click away (which you probably should), I will likely try to string them together more coherently. Not that this is coherent to start with.

He had come outside for a pleasant after breakfast pipe, but it was turning out to be anything but. The Rangers didn't smoke themselves and never liked it when the Hobbits in their care smoked when they were near, so Bilbo's pipe dangled uselessly from his hand. And he didn't like the reason he'd been sought out one bit.

"I don't want a wife," he protested, knowing it was useless.

"You have an amazing bloodline," the Ranger said. "We can't just let that pedigree die out. She'll arrive tomorrow. I suggest you prepare for her today."

Bilbo glared after the Man as he left, deliberately blowing a ring of smoke after him. And his pipe wasn't as good after that. A wife. What did he need one of those for? His mother had advised him, before she died, that he should set himself to finding a bride for himself before one was gotten for him, but it wasn't like what he wanted would matter in any case.

He would have been fine with the gardener's daughter if he had to marry a woman. The gardeners were practical people. Their daughter could cook and till. Bilbo was proud of his own ability in the garden - Holman Greenhand wasn't responsible for the Baggins prize tomatoes, after all - and someone who could help him wouldn't be all bad.

But the Ranger had mentioned his thrice cursed _pedigree_. He was a gentleman, first heir of the Baggins name, and grandson of the previous Thain of the Tooks. He couldn't marry just anyone. His wife would have to be of similar stature so their children would be properly gentlemen. Perhaps a Brandybuck - there was only one branch related to him. Or a Proudfoot or Bracegirdle, possibly.

Still, he hated the thought of marrying anyone, and so he puffed sourly on his pipe, all thought of a restful morning gone. He was so lost in his sulk that he didn't realize a Big Person had come up to him until the shadow blocked out the sun.

He started in alarm, then forced his face to cheerfulness. "Good morning!"

"What do you mean?" the grey robed Man asked, leaning on his staff. "Do you wish me a good morning; or mean that you feel good this morning; or do you mean that it is a good morning whether I like it or not; or perhaps it is a morning to be good on?"

Riddles before second breakfast. He held back a frown and answered "all but the last, I suppose." Because if being good meant preparing Bag End to be taken over by some woman he might not even know, he had no truck with it.

The Man's eyes gleamed, and when he spoke his gravely voice was full of amused fondness. "Then perhaps I have found the one I'm seeking."

One of Bilbo's brows rose. "May I ask who is doing the seeking in the first place?"

"Why, Bilbo Baggins, you don't remember Gandalf?"

Bilbo drew a sharp breath, almost glad of the resulting attack of coughs from breathing in too much smoke. Gandalf! The Rangers didn't like him. Too many young folks listened to his stories and wanted to leave the Shire. Sometimes the Tooks followed him away, and all too often they didn't return. And then everyone would whisper that it was only what they deserved for leaving the safety of the Shire.

But Bilbo was part Took on his mother's side, and he had seen some of the cousin's who had returned. They didn't look like they were relieved to be secure again. They looked as though they had given up something important. But the Rangers did their best to keep the returned cousins apart from everyone until they were properly complacent again.

"Gandalf," Bilbo whispered, feeling a tingle of rebellion in his soul, and a shiver of delight at the forbidden nature of his current conversation.

"I'm looking for someone to share in an adventure."

"An adventure!" The Hobbit cast a look around. He didn't see anyone, but that didn't mean they were alone. "No," he said sharply. "Nasty, horrid things. Make you late for dinner. You'll find no one who wants an adventure around here."

He stood, moving toward his lovely, green door. Then he paused, as if he had remembered his manners. "But come to supper some time! Tonight!" He couldn't risk another look to make sure Gandalf had understood, so he hurried inside, closing the door behind him.

Bilbo moved through Bag End, only realizing his hands were shaking with some emotion he couldn't name when he started making room on the shelves for the woman who would arrive on the morrow. He took down the things that meant the most to him, packed them in boxes, and hid them on the highest shelves in his closets.

And when he had done enough that he could honestly say he was preparing for his new wife if any asked, he pulled out the pack his mother had made him when he was young. She had encouraged him to hike around the Shire, to sleep out undert he stars, and to spend time with the visitors of other races who passed through so frequently. He couldn't remember anymore what they told him, but then, much of his childhood was a blur past the tragedy of his father's long illness.

She had made it well, and it had been stored carefully. It would easily hold the things he needed and he could still carry it comfortably across shoulders that had grown more padded with age. He scoured his home looking for what he would need to follow Gandalf on a mad adventure.

Clothing, certainly. Trousers, shirts, underthings, and even a few waistcoats were folded neatly and placed on huge bottom of the pack. A washcloth and small towel followed, along with a cake of soap in a wooden box. He'd surely need a mending kit at some point or another, and a tinderbox was a must for any overnight travel. He had a few salves for cuts and bruises, and a small stock of medicinal tea to counter aches and pains. Those went into another small box and nestled neatly in among his other things. Handkerchiefs - useful for any number of things, including bandages in times of need. Pipe weed wasn't strictly necessary, but small bag of it took up hardly any room at all.

His bedroll had been stored just as carefully as his pack, and was still in good condition. He wished he had a few days to air it out, but he couldn't risk anyone seeing it. He put it through the loops that were there for it, and shouldered the pack, making sure he could carry it.

When Bungo Baggins had built Bag End he had dug a tunnel. One end was hidden in a closet and it snaked low under the Hill to come out among the roots of bushes on the other side. Only the three Bagginses who lived there knew of it, which meant that it was now Bilbo's sole secret.

He stowed the pack at the start of it, where it wouldn't be seen, and turned to the question of food. Everything for that was in the pantry. He shook out the reinforced haversack and checked all of its pockets. A set of utensils went into one small pocket. A cunningly made set of dishes, skillet, and pot that all folded together for easy carrying went into another.

What food to bring? It had to be things that would keep, and things that could be carried and dropped without risk of breakage. He looked mournfully at his shelf of preserves, but they were all in glass. Instead, he packed dried meats and smoked cheeses. Dried mushrooms would cook up a treat, and you could go a long way on an oat porridge, so bags of each of those went into the haversack. And tea. He didn't think he could last too long without tea, so he out a bag of his favorite blend into a side pocket along with a straining spoon. He filled a canteen and clipped it to the strap of the bag.

By the time he had finished with that, it was growing late in the day and was time to start preparing the supper he would share with Gandalf. It would have to be a practical one - he didn't want to leave Bag End's new mistress without proper stores. They would eat the fish - that was fresh and wouldn't keep well. A salad, of course - spinach, perhaps, with toasted almonds and dried fruit from last year. He had an almost whole loaf of oat bread he had baked yesterday, and that would go well with the peach jam he was most loathe to leave behind.

And while he made supper, he mixed together nuts, dried fruits, and grains, and roasted them with a bit of honey. It would bag up well and be a good source of energy on the road. He knew most peoples didn't eat as often as Hobbits did, and assumed Gandalf wouldn't want to stop for meals seven times a day. The trail mix would help him last the too long stretches without.

Finally he was ready. Both travel bags were hidden, and he was prepared to use the tunnel to escape after curfew. Dinner was ready and the table was set. Finally, all he could do was wait and hope Gandalf had understood his invitation. He wrung his hands as time past and it began to darken outside. The longer he had to wait, the more he questioned his resolve. Was disappearing really the best thing to do? He wasn't one of the young Tooks who could be easily overlooked and hushed up. They would know he was missing. They might come looking for him....

And then there was a knock on the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo in this story is around 38. At his canon age of 50, he's halfway through his projected lifespan and that's far too late for him to be first bred. The Rangers gave him a few years to find someone on his own, but they aren't going to let him wait forever.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dinner guests arrive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I post a piece of ridiculous nonsense in the evening, hoping that people will be amused. When I wake up the next morning there are already _three subscribers_. What is going on here? On a similar note, AO3 doesn't let you see who is subscribing to your work. This saddens me. AO3, I want to know who loves me! Let me see who loves me!
> 
> So there is a lot of food this chapter, and mild forwarding of the plot. What can I say? I'm a Hobbit at heart. Food is very important.

"I was starting to worry. It's getting--" Bilbo's voice choked off and he hung on the door, eyes wide. Before him was a Dwarf, one of the largest ones he had ever seen. And he could see axes peeking over his guest's shoulders. The Rangers took weapons away from guests before letting them in, so this Dwarf couldn't be here legally. "Are-- are you with Gandalf?" He looked around the Dwarf to see if he could see his expected visitor.

"He'll be along later with the others," the Dwarf said, gently moving Bilbo aside and entering. When he was inside in the light, Bilbo could see the tattoos crossing his bald head and the scar running down his face and across his nose.

"Others?" he asked, voice almost a squeak. He moved to the dining room and looked at the supper for two that was laid out on the table. It might be enough for three if they ate sparingly, but it certainly wouldn't stretch for any more. He picked up the jam and clutched it to his chest. There was only the one jar of peach and it was his favorite. He'd never get any with unanticipated guests, but it would be the height of bad manners to take it away now.

The Dwarf seemed to understand his distress. He pried the jar from Bilbo's fingers and placed it on a high shelf behind one of his father's knickknacks. "Being the host should entitle you to some perks," he said when he met the Hobbit's wide eyes. "One jar of jam won't give enough for fifteen anyway."

"Fifteen?" Bilbo's eyes widened more.

"With you and the wizard, of course."

What he had made would never feed fifteen. He scuttled toward the kitchen. "I'll just prepare more now," he called behind him, wringing his hands. From behind, he heard the scrape of chairs on the floor and knew the first of his army of guests was rearranging the room to fit everyone.

What to do? It was already late and the party was starting to arrive. He hardly had time for anything. Best to start things cooking and then pull together cold dishes to tide everyone over. There wasn't time for a roast, but it cut down into steaks quite nicely and he quickly had them sizzling in the pan with mushrooms and onions. He took a wide slice from a wheel of sharp cheese for soup, put eggs in a pot to boil, mixed a quickbread dough and scrubbed up as many potatoes as he could lay hands on to go in the oven as well. A hastily thrown together rhubarb crumble joined all of that, and a mix of walnuts, cashews, and almonds completely filled the oven. Asparagus went into a pan to cook, and the last burner on the stove went to the bacon he planned to wrap around it.

That well started, he made up a plate of vegetables and berries that he could bring out quickly. Every loaf of bread - sweet, quickbreads and the heavenly yeasty bread with cheese, garlic, and sun dried tomatoes inside - could be turned out, and he still had grape jelly, and raspberry and strawberry, and both pumpkin and apple butter. The rest of the cheddar could go out with crackers, and it was only the work of a minute to slice a milder cheese with red tomatoes and fresh, green basil to lay on top of slices of bread that was just starting to go stale and would have a satisfying crunch.

There were a trio of pies in a cool corner of the pantry, and at least that many kinds of cookie tucked in jars around the house. That would have to do for dessert, although perhaps the bottles of fine wine and keg of good ale (only a little borrowed for the soup) would appease the guests he had been unprepared for. Had he known the number of them, he would have gone shopping!

...Although then someone could have caught on. Perhaps it was for the best that he was caught off guard.

When he started bringing out the platters of cold foods he found that there were already three more Dwarves. They were talking in low voices in a language that sounded guttural and harsh. They turned to him as one, the younger pair springing to their feet to relieve him of the food.

The last of the group was an old man with a long, white beard that forked at the end. He looked wise and kind, things Bilbo wasn't used to associating with anyone who wasn't a Hobbit. He nodded to Bilbo and one of the pair of younger Dwarves pressed him gently into a seat.

"The food--" he protested weakly.

"I'm sure it will be fine for a moment," the white bearded Dwarf said. "Now, laddie, do you now what we're here about?"

"Gandalf said something about an adventure," Bilbo stuttered, voice more a question than a statement. You heard so much about Dwarves and here he was at the mercy of them with more to come.

The Dwarf nodded. "It's a very dangerous quest. You are gracious to entertain us tonight, and mustn't think that means you have to come with us. We will explain everything when we're all here, and then you are free to refuse us if you will and no one will think less of you for it. On that you have the word of Balin son of Fundin."

"Thank you," Bilbo said softly. And perhaps it was premature, but the vow did make him feel safer. Safe enough that he realized he'd forgotten to introduce himself, an unforgivable breach of manners. He leapt to his feet and bowed. "Bilbo Baggins, at your service!" he cried. "And now I really must check on supper!"

He escaped to the kitchen to find his hands shaking. He had been too caught up in the food to think about the reason for this unexpected party, and now that he had been reminded all of his doubts crashed down on him. A sob started to work itself up his throat and only the timely invasion of the younger, blond Dwarf saved him from breaking down completely, and probably ruining supper.

"Fíli, at your service," he said. "Rest assured, Master Baggins, that we four will ensure you are treated with the courtesy you deserve. How can I help you here?"

It was kind of nice, Bilbo reflected, to have another person in the kitchen with him. He had been alone for years and had forgotten that. It was especially nice to have Fíli there with him when new voices were raised in raucous laughter from the next room. Every time he cringed away from it, the young Dwarf rested a large hand comfortingly on his back and leaned protectively close. It was steadying. Perhaps it shouldn't have been - there were so many rumors about the appetites of Dwarves! - but when the food was finally all ready to go out Bilbo felt as calm and steady as he could hope to feel.

Fíli followed his lead, carrying the bowls of eggs and potatoes in one arm and the asparagus and fresh bread on the other. When Bilbo faltered at the sight of twelve Dwarves staring at him, Fíli was still able to nudge him with a friendly grin. Bilbo took a deep breath and entered the room.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner and explanations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This would have been posted earlier but holy shit, guys! The house behind mine went up in smoke! It's contained, my house is not in danger, thankfully. Everyone got out okay as far as I know. (Although there was just a comment (we have a scanner) about the foundation of one of the nearby houses getting washed out because of all the water, so WHO KNOWS?)
> 
> This was not how I wanted to end my day, guys. Keep your thoughts, prayers, or whatever else with the poor people who are now homeless.

The host usually sat at the head of the table, but Bilbo was more than happy to be down the middle of one side, bracketed by Fíli on one side and Balin on the other, with the other early pair on either side of them to keep him safely separate. The head of the table was occupied by a Dwarf that all the others seemed to defer to, and Bilbo could well see why. He had long, black hair, only just beginning to grey, and eyes that could pierce right through you. When he met them once, Bilbo shivered and lowered his own eyes to the table.

It seemed that every dish he owned was out on the table, although with the amount of food and company it was really no surprise. The bald one reached his peach jam down for him and Balin made sure his plate was piled high with food. As he ate, closing his eyes to properly indulge in the sweetness of the peach jam, he felt himself relax. Yes, the meal was loud. But with fifteen at the table, how could it be anything else? And they all seemed to appreciate the food, which could mean nothing but good to a Hobbit.

They talked about things he didn't understand, and he found himself tuning them out until the voice that caught his attention was Gandalf. He slitted his eyes and looked over, seeing that he was talking to the leader, then closed his eyes again and let himself listen.

"--Overlooked and underestimated by all and sundry," the Man in grey finished.

"Elves and Men are one thing," the other replied, and Bilbo didn't think he had ever heard a voice that deep. "The end of this is Smaug, and he is neither."

"And just as likely to dismiss him. Smaller than a Dwarf and softer. Why would anyone - even unfamiliar with them! - think to fear him? And remember, for much of the journey you will be traveling through lands held by Men and Elves. Having a Hobbit, who can move quietly, hear far, and be above suspicion, will be a great boon to you."

There was no reply, and Bilbo looked up curiously. The intense eyes were on him again, and he colored and dropped his gaze.

Fíli called for his attention, and soon he was being introduced to everyone in the group in such a whirl that all he could remember was that some of the names rhymed. He tried to smile and welcome them all, but it was obvious he looked as overwhelmed as he felt. They were kind to him and even the fiercest looking were gentle.

They insisted on cleaning up, and several hands pressed him down into his chair and handed him cookies and ale. And it was a good thing he was sitting, because seeing how they went about the cleaning would have weakened his legs under him if he had been standing. They carried high piles that looked like they would overbalance any second, or they took the plates and tossed them from room to room. One of them pulled out a pipe and began playing a merry tune, and soon they were all singing as they threw, and dancing scarcely a moment later.

The leader - he had been pointed out as Thorin, if Bilbo remembered rightly - stayed in his seat as well, holding between his fingers the neatest rolled smoke Bilbo had seen. He glanced down at the cookie in his hand, feeling a child in comparison, and took a long draught of his ale.

Once they finished washing and putting away, they all came tumbling back into the dining room. Fíli and the other youngster - Kíli, Bilbo thought, his brother - pressed in eagerly around him. Bilbo thought he should feel uncomfortable at their closeness, but he pressed back into it, finding them comforting. They turned to the head of the table, and watched Thorin with the adoration of puppies. Bilbo saw him smile at them and felt some of his fear of the man recede.

"Master Baggins would like to know about our quest, I think," Thorin said, turning a quizzical look on the Hobbit.

"Yes," Bilbo answered, trying not to stutter. "Master Balin says it's dangerous, but that's all I know of it."

"I find," Thorin said slowly, "that the best explanations can be found in music."

Kíli gave an excited squeak and darted out of the room. When he returned, he had a small harp in his hands. Thorin took it and cradled it lovingly in his arms as he settled it onto his lap. He drew his fingers across the strings in a gentle caress, and Bilbo felt a fool for expecting it to make a plunking sound. No, the sound was rich and delicate, soothing as a mother's voice.

Thorin began playing softly, and Bilbo's eyes closed to better lose himself in the music. He heard the pipe join in, and the low, humming tones of the Dwarves singing. Fíli, behind him, started singing first, and Bilbo felt the resonance of it from where the youth leaned against his back.

He wasn't sure if there were words, or what those words might be, but he learned their story through the sure, soft tones of the harp and the clear, ringing notes of the pipe. He knew who they were from the deep, sad murmuring of their voices.  
And as he sat with his eyes closed, he thought he saw a great mountain kingdom. Dwarves lived in it, in splendor and might, digging deep, forging beautiful things, laughing and playing and loving with an intensity Bilbo had never seen among Hobbits. There was a city of Men nearby and the Men and Dwarves lived with each other in harmony. He smiled at the vision, not pausing to wonder where it came from.

Then, and Bilbo tensed at the suddenness of it, there was a dragon. Fire was everywhere, filling the sky, filling his eyes with smoke and death and choking fear. And when it cleared, the city of Men was gone and the mountain was lost.

When Bilbo became aware of himself again he was crying, great wracking sobs of pain and loss and anguish. It took him a long moment to realize all of the Dwarves were looking at him, expressions just as heartsick as he felt. Fíli had wrapped his arms around him and was murmuring that it was okay. It was long ago. They were going to make it right.

"You don't have to come," Balin reminded him gently.

"I do," Bilbo answered, voice shaking and tears still steaming down his cheeks. "I will go with you, and he'll you any way I can. I--" His voice wavered and broke. "I have to go, even though I'm so scared I can't stand."

Thorin leaned forward over the table, voice low. "I cannot guarantee your safety."

Bilbo looked back at him as steadily as he could. "I know."

There was a hint of warmth in the eyes of the Dwarf looking at him. "You have my gratitude. Anything we can do to protect you will be done."

"We should go," Gandalf said, rising and filling the room. "We must be far from here when morning comes and the borders are opened."

"Yes," Bilbo said, rising and pulling away from Fíli after giving the youth a squeeze. "Put everyone back where it was so they'll take longer to realize. And then...." He looked around at them and then shared the biggest secret he has. "We should all fit through the tunnel."

They looked a bit cheered at that and followed his directions on where everything went. As quickly as they had done the dishes, the house was back to normal. Bilbo took one last look around, his eyes lingering on a portrait over the mantle. It was silly to bring something so useless, but before he could stop himself it was in his hands. His parents when they were young, arms around each other and holding him together in between them. He could just remember sitting for the portrait, and knew that if either had let go of him he had been off like a shot.

Bilbo hugged the portrait to his chest as he led the way to the tunnel's mouth, embarrassed of his own sentiment, but glad when no one commented on it. He looked around at the group of Dwarves who were now his comrades, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoin's harp is a lap harp. It [looks like this](http://instrumentsofantiquity.com/websize/straight_arm_harp_2333.jpg) and is [about this size](https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRBCpNj87DfSoCDMuo_hctairzpn0mWdYS_Cthda6jJcp7leRnF). (Imagine the guy with rather more hair and less of a smile.) His mother made it. It was actually what she was working on when the dragon came, which is how it made it out of the mountain. It is the last thing of his mother that Thorin has and he treasures it and brings it with him wherever he goes. (The fact that he can will make more sense soon, I promise.) Likely, there really is magic involved with it. "The Dwarves of yore made mighty spells" and all.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They leave the Shire.

The sound of the door closing again was strangely loud in Bilbo's ears. There was a finality to it that made him shiver even as he lit the lantern and led the way through the tunnel. He tried to hold the light up high enough that even Gandalf could keep from bumping his head as they moved through to the other side of the Hill.

When he had been young, Bilbo had sometimes used the tunnel to sneak out after curfew and meet with visitors. He still remembered it now as he handed the lantern to the Dwarf behind him and wriggled out to peer through the bushes and make sure the coast was clear. He remembered being a wild youth although it was with a veil of time before it.  
"It's clear," he whispered. "Put out the light and come out quietly."

A Dwarf's idea of quiet was much different than a Hobbit's, but it was after curfew and there was no one to hear them. Bilbo waited anxiously, though. Even after curfew, it could be dangerous to stand in one place too long. The group looked around to get their bearings and then peeled off into groups.

"Come with me, Master Baggins," Thorin said, nodding at Fíli and Kíli as well.

They walked in silence, Bilbo weighed down with his bags and feeling uncertain in the darkness. What use could a Hobbit be in defeating a dragon? The others were aware of him, because he suddenly had the boys flanking him and Fíli nudged him in the ribs. When he looked up he saw a flash of teeth in the moonlight, a grin that let him know he was welcomed. He relaxed and smiled back.

Finally, they came to a wagon. It was made of metal, which Bilbo figured was because Dwarves loved metal, and a covered driver's seat. Bilbo thought that very practical. There was no reason to get caught in inclement weather.

Thorin directed them with succinct hand movements - the boys into the wagon, Bilbo into the front. He climbed up into the Man sized vehicle, and watched as Thorin reverently stowed his harp in the gap behind the seat. He hoisted himself up with a practiced movement and closed the door behind him.

"But where are the horses? Don't you need to hitch them?" Bilbo asked, bewildered.

Thorin looked at him askance, then muttered "they're under the hood."

Bilbo had no chance to ask what that meant, as there was a sudden roaring noise and he felt the seat vibrate and start to move under him. He squeaked and gripped the seat, eyes wide as they moved without anything to pull them.

They went through wooded areas, but even without horses they stayed on he he path. Bilbo slowly relaxed, only feeling how tense he had been as his muscles protested. He was still anxious, both about how they were moving and about the possibility of capture, and even though he wanted to ask question after question he found he couldn't speak.

Thorin must have noticed, because he started talking. "It's an automobile," he said, eyes never leaving the narrow path ahead of them. "Dwarves made them first and make them best, but Men mostly buy them. There's something inside that makes it go. It's equal parts magic and mechanism. Dori works on them, so if you want more you'll have to ask him. I can keep this thing running, but that's about it."

"How does it know when to go?" Bilbo asked, finding his voice at last.

"There are pedals on the floor," Thorin answered. "And this connects to the wheels and turns them when I turn it," he added, tapping his fingers on the wheel he'd been holding. "When we're well clear of this place I'll let you try."

Bilbo wasn't sure he wanted to, but watching Thorin carefully kept his mind off self doubt. The rode without speaking for what felt like hours. Bilbo turned once to see what Fíli and Kíli were up to in the back. In the half light of the moon, he saw them curled together and asleep.

"You should sleep too, if you can," Thorin said. Bilbo turned back to the man in the vehicle with him. "We'll reach the border in another half hour, and then it's clear roads until we find a place to hide for the day."

"I want to stay awake," Bilbo answered, settling back into the seat and pulling his knees up to his chest. "I need to see the border myself to know it's all real. This could still all be a dream, you know? I could be asleep in Bag End waiting for some woman to be brought and dreaming of freedom."

Thorin glanced over at him and Bilbo thought he saw understanding in the brief moment their eyes met. He dropped his gaze, feeling vaguely ashamed, and when he looked up again Thorin's eyes weren't on him. Instead, he looked out the window, watching as everything he knew passed by perhaps forever.

As he looked out, he became aware of Thorin humming, his voice deep and resonant, melding with the him of the automobile. Bilbo's eyes became heavier and he fought to keep them open. He heard a voice say "here's the border" and felt a perceptual difference as they crossed it. It was as if a thread had been cut and that was the last thing he was aware of until long after the sun came up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thorin drives a pickup. Surprise?
> 
> Also, yes, there is something at the border that helps hold the Hobbits in their enclosure. This 'verse has more magic and more technology than my usual Middle Earth writing.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot of world build exposition and some plotting.

When Bilbo woke it was light out. He was curled on his seat still, head and feet all in the seat and warm with someone's jacket over him. It brought back memories of childhood and he worried at the edge of the jacket until it registered that he was hearing voices.

He sat slowly, cataloging the ache that still lived in his head, dull and throbbing. It was to that headache that he attributed the fact that the world looked strange. He shifted slowly in the seat, lowering his legs over the side and reaching for the door.

It didn't open, and he was suddenly in a panic, hitting at the door and then scrambling to the middle of the seat to hyperventilate. Something was very wrong and he was trapped, alone, in the vehicle. Had they been found? Was that what the voices he had stopped hearing were? Were the Rangers going to drag him back to the Shire to be married?

He buried his head in his knees, trying to think over the confusion in his head, when a wash of cool air grabbed his attention.

"You've woken." The depth of Thorin's voice soothed his head.

"Yes," he answered, voice smaller than he wanted.

Thorin held out a hand, and Bilbo took it. He slid out into a world that seemed greyer than the one he was used to. He hadn't had much bravado to begin with, and that on top of everything else made him shrink into himself.

Fill was there in a moment, arm around his shoulder to coax him out of his worry. "Gandalf says he forgot this would happen and you probably feel sick now. Óin will give you something for it, and you'll be right as rain."

"That was supposed to happen? Did it happen to you?"

"We aren't Hobbits, Master Baggins," Fíli told him with a smile. "Things are different for you, or so I'm told. But just think! We made it out of the Shire! We're hidden for the day, and we can really talk about our plans here."

"There is much you should know," Thorin agreed, pulling his jacket on. "But first, you should have some breakfast. Gandalf thinks it will help."

It wasn't the breakfast he would have preferred, but Bilbo was glad to eat it. There was a hot, bitter drink that made him more alert, and there was a warm cereal. It was thick with honey and cinnamon, and the sweetness did much for his temper. He was given four sausages, smoked and with just enough bite, and it wasn't until the third one was half eaten that he wondered what the others had eaten. He swallowed his bite and looked up with wide eyes.

The Dwarves were looking at him with warm fondness that made him color and drop his eyes again.

"Finish eating," Thorin said. "We've enough of this, at least, for you."

"And then," another, older Dwarf said as he approached, "take these." He held out a pair of pills. "Mind you swallow them without chewing. With water would be best."

Bilbo did as he was told and then looked up with curiosity.

"It will cure your aches," the old Dwarf said, voice a touch too loud indicating that he didn't hear well.

"Thank you," Bilbo said, forming his words very clearly and remembering how hard it had been conversing with his grandfather at the end.

"Not that deaf," the Dwarf said grumpily. "And my hearing aid is on."

Bilbo's frown of confusion brought Thorin back into the conversation. "There is much you need to know about the world outside the Shire before we move further," he said, ice blue eyes burning into Bilbo's.

"The world outside the Shire is dangerous," Bilbo said, parroting the lessons he'd had as a child. "Elves and Men and Dwarves are always fighting one another. The Hobbits are lucky to have such staunch defenders in the Rangers, whose life is about protection and not aggression."

"That-- is only partially true," Thorin said. "And there is much you aren't allowed to know about that would help you."  
Bilbo's eyes drifted back the way he had come. "Like--"

"Like my truck, yes. We can move much faster than you can. The Shire is very small. You could cross it in two or three days just walking, and with a car it hardly takes any time at all. And all kinds of other technology. Óin doesn't hear well, but he has a device that fits into his ear and helps him. We can see in the dark without resorting to fire."

"We can talk to each other even when we're apart," Kíli put in eagerly, thrusting his hand forward. Bilbo eyed the box sitting on his open palm curiously, so Kíli opened it and pressed buttons until there was a buzzing sound from his brother's pocket.

The blond slapped at his pocket until it stopped. "Kíli, don't overwhelm him." He crouched at Bilbo's side. "The Rangers make others pay to see you. And we all go to see how life used to be. But that's not right. You shouldn't be left out of the world because the Rangers want our money."

Bilbo rocked back. "No," he stuttered. "That's not right. They take care of us. They--" He knew how his cousins looked when they returned from the world. He knew how few of them returned. He thought of occasional gifts, bits of fascinating but broken clockwork he was told never to show a Ranger.

Cousin Fortinbras had whispered that it was a Ranger who had broken it. Bilbo hadn't believed him at the time, but he still remembered it. Fort had been isolated for years until he was married to Lily. But even after that, if Rangers were near he was silent as only Hobbits can be. Not even Rangers noticed Hobbits who were really trying to be unseen.

"Is it true?" he asked in a small voice, eyes seeking out Balin.

The old Dwarf nodded sadly. "Aye, lad. I don't know what was promised at the start, but it's been like this for generations."

Bilbo scrambled to his feet, looking around wildly. "I need--" He didn't even finish the statement before running to Thorin's truck and tugging at the door until it opened. He shut it again behind himself, glad no one had followed, and pulled out the painting of his parents. He held it with trembling fingers, then clutched it to his chest and curled around it.

By the time he felt confident enough to rejoin the group it was lunchtime. He was silently handed a sandwich and an apple, and Fíli and Kíli both shifted close so they were touching. It was a comfort, and he was glad they weren't mentioning his outburst outright.

"We only have a few hours until dark and we need to use this time to plan," Thorin said, breaking the silence.

"We should bring your map to Elrond," Gandalf said, the first time he'd had any input at all. "He knows much of the old magics and may be able to give us more information."

Thorin shook his head. "The Rangers are always in and out of Rivendell. I won't bring Mister Baggins into that much danger so quickly. It's enough that he's to face a dragon in the end."

"I could dress like a Dwarf," Bilbo offered.

A large, rough hand stroked down his cheek and Bilbo flushed crimson at the intimacy of the touch. "You've no whiskers," Thorin pointed out. "And I doubt you'll want to wear boots."

"I will if it helps the quest," Bilbo maintained, feet drawing under him and face still red. Tgorin hadn't stopped touching him yet. "Do all Dwarves have beards, then? Men, women, and children all?"

"We wouldn't bring a child with us," one of the others put in. "Enough we have Kíli and his scruff. Any other Dwarves would accuse us of endangering a child."

Bilbo wasn't sure what Kíli did in retaliation because his eyes were caught in Thorin's. The Dwarf's hands had started to work steadily in the hair at his temples. "With a hood up to hide your ears, you might pass as a young Dwarf. We'll call you Bíli and say you're Fíli and Kíli's younger brother."

The pair grinned and nudged at him, obviously pleased. Bilbo smiled back at them, glad Thorin had decided he wasn't such a burden they couldn't move forward for protecting him.

"And I'm sure I can find more information around Rivendell. Hobbits are good at being quiet and overlooked."

Thorin shook his head. "The Rangers are everywhere between here and the Misties. I won't risk you needlessly. You'll stay in company when and if we stop to seek Elrond's council."

He moved back and there were soft murmurs around them. Fíli reached out and Bilbo realized he had braids woven into his hair and deftly worked behind each ear when the Dwarf took one in his fingers gently.

"Brother," he said, a strong arm circling Bilbo's body. Kíli leaned in to cuddle from the other side and Thorin smiled at them.

"We will move east toward Rivendell," he decided. "Once it's dark. We should sleep until then. Many of us got little sleep last night and until it's safe for young Bíli we will have to move at night."

There were murmurs of assent. As the group shifted to set guards and find good places to sleep through the day everyone moved by the three and ran their fingers through Bilbo's hair. He knew it should feel intrusive, but it felt like a sign of acceptance and he leaned into it.

Fíli and Kíli led him back to the truck, boosting him into the rear and holding him between them. They talked softly through much of the afternoon, telling him about their mother, their dead father, and the uncle who helped raise them. It took very little time for the Hobbit to figure out that the uncle they talked about in hushed, reverent tones was Thorin.

He listened as closely as he could, knowing that his knowledge of these people was important. But it seemed that whatever had knocked him out when they left the Shire wasn't completely out of his system. He fell asleep long before dark, snugly sandwiched between his new brothers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will admit to starting this and thinking it would likely end up being Thilbo. I'm not so sure anymore.
> 
> Also, as my wife has pointed out, the situation is really creepy. It's pretty much meant to be.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo learns more about his new companions.

It was just turning dark when Bilbo woke again. He stayed still for a long time, listening and looking. There were sounds of low conversation nearby, and the sounds of sleep all around. It should have felt deafening - and in some ways it did - to one who had lived more than a year alone, but it was more a comfort than anything else.

The setting sun painted everything red and gold, and Bilbo wondered if the strange color distortion he had seen during the day was something that would pass. Certainly while he looked everything had the same rosy glow and ink black shadow the Shire had in the evening. Looking one way, Kíli's hair and face were a mask of darkness where he snuffled close and pressed his face into Bilbo's chest. A glance the other way showed Fíli's golden hair looking bright like fire.

Bilbo snuggled more securely between the pair. He felt strong arms holding him close, breath ruffling his hair, the warm press of bodies. Fíli snored softly and Kíli murmured wordlessly. It was a kind of closeness he'd never had before, and he cherished even this small bit of it.

But they didn't have time for simple comforts, and Bilbo was reminded of this when the truck shifted under him. He lifted his head again and saw Thorin leaning over the side.

"Bíli," the man said, voice low, "wake your brothers. We'll eat something and move out soon."

And then he was alone again and he clung to the other two with both hands. He whispered softly to them, wishing he could keep the feeling of belonging forever. But as Fíli and Kíli woke they held tighter and greeted him with sleepy affection. He thought he could quickly get used to being called Bíli in that tone of voice.

They had a quick supper of things Bilbo recognized from his pantry. He almost felt sorry for the woman who was brought to Bag End, because there must be nothing left for her, but he relished what was likely the last taste of home he would have in a long time - if he ever returned at all.

Then they cleaned the campsite. Thorin made it clear that it had to look as unused as they could make it, and everyone moved in a controlled hurry to do his bidding. Bilbo felt like he was at he eye of a very small storm as the group rushed around him, scattering the fire pit and making sure all the garbage was bagged or buried.

While they were at it, Dori went through packs to find him Dwarf clothes. They put their heads together over it and in the end decided he should keep his own trousers. He was smaller than most of them and slighter as well, and theirs would never fit. And his own plain shirt was able to form the base of his outfit. They took a tunic from Fíli, the smaller of the brothers. It was wheat brown, a color Bilbo had always favored, with decorations in a dark grey at the collar, cuffs, and hem. It was well worn and made Bilbo really feel family. Adding to that feeling, Dori dug an extra belt from Kíli's pack. Kíli was slimmer, though taller, than Fíli so his belts would fit better.

Bilbo hadn't thought about where they would get boots for him, but theft hadn't been in his mind at all. Nori had snuck away during the day and found him a pair after guessing at his size by seeing how his feet compared to his brothers'. Dori had a pair of soft socks as well, and he helped Bilbo out both on, commiserating when he made sounds of discomfort.

And then the biggest surprise. Dori had made him a hat - dark burgundy with ear flaps at the sides. Dori, who had been up driving until the small hours of the morning. And despite that, he had stayed up during the day to make something for Bilbo. He had used what couldn't be a large store of yarn that could have been used for his brothers, but he had used it for Bilbo.

"Hoods fall too easily," he said, smiling at Bilbo's speechless delight. "This will stay. And it helps hide how short your hair is as well."

Bilbo pulled it on, smiling shyly and unsure how to properly express hs gratitude for everything the Dwarves were doing for him. And all for a half formed promise that no one was completely certain he could make good on. It was humbling just how much they were giving him with so little in return.

"And there's Bíli!" The voice was Dwalin's good hearted growl, and Bilbo turned to look at him. "Looking a proper Dwarf, aren't you? Some fuzz on those cheeks and I wouldn't know you for a Hobbit myself!" He walked around Bilbo, nodding approvingly. "You call me Mister Dwalin like your brothers do, and I'll go easy on you at training."

"Training?" Dori exclaimed. "What do you mean to do? He hasn't any weapons nor previous training!"

"And that's why we start slow," Dwalin answered. "Shame one of Durin's line unable to protect his people. Fíli over arms himself, so we'll have what to work with to start."

"And should we teach him Khuzdul?" Dori challenged. "Shame for one of Durin's folk not to understand his language."

Dwalin bristled, then seemed to realize he was giving Dori what he wanted and paused to consider the suggestion. "It's a good idea," he finally admitted grudgingly. "But something we should all do. It'll make Bifur feel useful. And we'll likely have need of private conversations."

He clapped Bilbo on the shoulder with a strength that sent the Hobbit stumbling. "You just call Thorin strukh and see what he does about it," he said with a grin.

Bilbo turned lost eyes to Dori, who took pity on him. "It means uncle, lad."

Bilbo blushed happily. He had many uncles in the Shire, but somehow this offer of family seemed to mean more than any of them.

He was made much of when the rest joined them, and then they split into their different vehicles and started on the night's convoy. He sat in the cab of Thorin's truck again, watching with wonder as the world sped past. They were moving much faster tonight, in need of more speed and less secrecy.

It was over an hour before he could tear himself away from the view long enough to tell Thorin about Dwalin and Dori's plans to train him in weapons and Khuzdul. Thorin thought it was a good idea, and they spent much of the night working on the rudiments of Khuzdul grammar and basic vocabulary. Fíli heard them at some point and pushed the rear window open so he could join the lesson.

They stopped near dawn to set themselves up in a sheltered area, and as he helped with the fire Bilbo practiced what he had learned. He realized that many of the words were of treasure and the lost Erebor, and he started to wonder.

"Why are you all on the quest?" he asked, setting aside his bowl of oatmeal. "I know I've come to help you get your home back, and I know Thorin loves Erebor. Why are you all coming with him?"

As a group, they looked over at where Thorin and Gandalf were examining maps. Then they shifted closer, all speaking at once. Bilbo backed away, eyes wide, until Bifur pushed his way forward and quieted them with a wave of his hands.

He spoke slowly, enunciating carefully and punctuating each word with a hand motion. "Thorin ikh nakhi," he started, then waited to see if Bilbo understood.

Bilbo thought hard. "You-- you _follow_ Thorin," he tried. He copied the last gesture, hands each in fists with the thumb raised and one moving after the other in a forward motion.

Bifur smiled at him and continued in the same slow manner, using his hands as well as his voice and it didn't take Bilbo long to understand that the movements of his hands were as purposeful as his words. Bifur told him that Thorin didn't call him useless like others did. When others tried to push him to the side, Thorin gave him work. He wasn't a burden on his family because of that, and he would follow Thorin to the ends of the earth.

Bombur's story was similar. He'd been too young to work when his parents died, but Thorin helped him set up a food stall and patronized it himself. This brought others, and in the end Bombur was able to support his family.

Bofur, the last of the family, smiled at Bilbo and leaned close to whisper that he followed Thorin for what had been given to his family. Bilbo smiled in return, warmed by the confidence.

Dori appreciated how Thorin tried to take care of all of the exiled of Erebor, often to his own detriment. If it weren't for Thorin there would have been many more dead of starvation or the bitter cold of winter. Thorin had paid for Ori to apprentice with Balin. Thorin had helped Nori whenever he was in trouble. There were many more who should have been with them because of the debt they all owed their king.

Nori added in a murmur that the promise of treasure if they lived through it was a nice added incentive, and Bilbo smothered a laugh.

Fíli and Kíli were easy enough to understand, as were Óin and Glóin. It was about family. They wouldn't let Thorin want for help if they knew about it.

Balin told a story about seeing a young prince become a king in battle. And then they all looked to Dwalin.

He nodded. "I saw him that day too," he said. "I fought next to him and thought that I would follow a warrior like that anywhere. And then I was with him when he found Frerin." There were murmurs and shudders, and Bilbo didn't need any more explanation as to what Thorin found. "He cried, and I wondered where the warrior king had gone. And then I followed him all around the battlefield. He cried over each of the dead, and mourned with each of the living. I understood then that a king is one who loves all of his people. And Thorin is a king indeed!"

They all turned once again to look at Thorin as he frowned over the maps, and Bilbo found that the Dwarf had grown somehow because of his increased knowledge.

"I've never seen him cry," Kíli said.

"He was younger than you are now, lad," Balin said, "and he changed after that."

Kíli frowned as he looked at his uncle and leaned forward to rest his chin on Bilbo's head. "He always seems happier when it's just family. He's the best uncle."

Bilbo didn't like to hear Kíli that serious. "And are you the best brother?" he teased.

Kíli looked down at him and grinned. "That's Fíli, but don't tell him I said so."

As far as Bilbo could tell, they were both good brothers. He smiled in return and leaned back easily into Kíli's warmth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khuzdul:  
> Strukh - uncle  
> Thorin ikh nakhi - I follow Thorin
> 
> For those unfamiliar with my writing, I am aware that there is a semi official neo-Khuzdul ([found here](http://www.scribd.com/mobile/doc/98387422)). Because of lack of the words I want and often not having the sound I want in the words, I borrow from it but don't use it exclusively. I find it more helpful to run words through google translate (mostly Germanic, Scandinavian, and Semitic languages) and adjust to what fits my sense of language best. I do follow internally consistent rules and I translate when I use it.
> 
> Also, as with any time I actually describe a sign, it's a real one and really means follow. You can find a description and some pictures [about halfway down the page](http://www.lifeprint.com/asl101/pages-signs/w/withadvanced.htm).


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh no! Trolls!

He slept through the morning, but was awake long before dark. He wriggled and squirmed until he was out of the pile he and his brothers had slept in and climbed carefully over the edge of the truck to drop lightly on the ground. His boots were still inside and it felt wonderful to walk softly without them.

Dwalin was the one on watch and he motioned Bilbo close, showing off how he was cleaning a pair of long knives. "These should fit your size well," he said. "Of course, we'll start with falling."

"Falling?" Bilbo asked, sitting next to the Dwarf.

"Falling," he repeated firmly. "You'll take a lot of falls when you start training in fighting and I won't have you doing yourself a mischief because you fell badly."

"There's a way to fall well?" Bilbo asked.

"'Course there is," Kíli said with a yawn, approaching. He demonstrated, rolling quickly up to his knees. "Falling and rolling and taking a hit. Mister Dwalin won't let you at an actual weapon until you can do all of those." Still on his knees, he filched the whetstone from Dwalin and set to work on his sword.

"Show me again," Bilbo said, rising. He wouldn't hold them back by shrinking away from what he had to learn. He followed Kíli's directions, rolling through the fall and scrambling awkwardly away.

"Not bad," Dwalin said. "Better than most the first time."

Bilbo smiled. "I climbed trees as a boy, and ran too fast on hills. I think I would have broken every bone in my body if I didn't learn how to gentle a fall."

"And a good thing you did," Kíli said and proceeded to swipe his feet out from under him. Bilbo squeaked and landed hard on his bottom. "But not good enough," his brother continued, looking blandly down at him.

Bilbo glared and kicked him, and Kíli was soon on the ground with him, just as winded. He recovered quickly, and by the time Fíli parted them the whole group had been woken by their scuffle. Dwalin was leaning back and howling with laughter and several of the group seemed to have bet on who would come out better.

"Kíli, he is smaller than you," Thorin said, frowning.

"Never stopped Fíli," Kíli muttered, but he looked ashamed and that was wrong.

"I started it," Bilbo said, pulling himself free of Fíli's grip and running to Thorin.

The man smiled at him. "And you are a better brother than either of them to take the blame." He put a hand on Bilbo's shoulder. "Has he hurt you?"

"No more than I hurt him," Bilbo said. "Kíli did nothing wrong."

"You let me be the judge of that, lad. Dwalin! Since we're all up, I think all of these lads need to work off some energy."

The warrior nodded and took Bilbo and his brothers to a clear spot for training. Ori joined them hesitantly and was greeted warmly. They worked on unarmed skills - falling, rolling, sneaking, quick punches and blocks. By the time breakfast was called, they were all breathless and sweating, exhausted but gleeful. The four youngest sat together to eat, talking and nudging and laughing together.

Bilbo climbed into the truck's cab when they started out with bright eyes and feeling more part of things than he had previously. He searched through his bag while Thorin started the truck and pulled out onto the back road they were taking. After a moment, he triumphantly pulled out his pipe and filled it.

Thorin gave him a light, then lit up his own smoke. They drove for a time in silence, each lost in his own thoughts. Thorin rolled down his window and when the smoke wasn't in his mouth he held it out the window where the smoke from it blew away. Bilbo swung his legs, feeling how the boots made them move like weights on a pendulum.

"You know, that's not good for you," Thorin commented after a time.

Bilbo blinked down at his pipe. "You're smoking too," he pointed out.

It seemed almost as if Thorin wasn't aware of his own actions. He glanced at the smoke between his fingers and flicked it out the window. "We can both stop," he said. "It is not good for either of us."

He spoke with authority, and Bilbo looked sadly down at his half finished pipe. It seemed it would be the last one he had for however long this lasted. He snuffed it out and dumped the used pipe weed, cleaning the bowl carefully before he put it back in his pack.

Thorin nodded approval at him and began to review his Khuzdul. Bilbo eagerly turned to the task, wanting to be able to prove himself.

They stopped a few hours earlier than they had the previous night. The earlier rising had them tired out. They stopped and started to set up camp when they noticed smoke and the scent of fire nearby.

"I'll go see what it is," Bilbo said, darting off before anyone could protest. Hobbits were light on their feet and silent when they wanted to be. He could get closer than the others could and see what was going on.

He hadn't reckoned on what having heavy boots on his feet would do to his stealth. He had hardly taken note of the smoky fire and the pot over it when he was lifted off his feet and held in a large hand.

"What's this, then?"

He'd heard enough stories to recognize Trolls and his breath stopped in terror.

"Looks like Dwarf," said the second one. "Scrawny one, though. Not more'n a mouthful."

"No beard, either," the first one said, holding Bilbo up and poking at him. "You sure it's a Dwarf?"

"Yeah, and you better let it go. Rangers probably around and if they find we're eating something other than mutton we're done for."

"You and your mutton. What'd we come out of the mountains for if all we're eating is mutton? All it was up there was goat and you said we'd have something better. I'm going to eat this Dwarf."

He raised his hand higher, Bilbo dangling from it and struggling to get out of the tight grip.

"Put him down!"

The Troll howled as Kíli's sword stuck into his leg and dropped Bilbo. Bilbo remembered to roll and Fíli pulled him to his feet and pushed him to the back of the group.

There was a loud bang from next to him.

"Put the gun down, Nori!" Dwalin shouted. "Their hide's too thick!" He gave a roar, pulling the axes off his back and leaping on the largest of the Trolls.

Bilbo hid at the back of the group, groping for rocks to throw. They didn't hurt the Trolls much, but then not much did. The sharp swords and knives of his companions did the most harm, but brought them far too close. Bilbo saw them bleeding and felt his mind go white with rage.

The next thing he knew, he was being held up by the Trolls and the Dwarves were looking at him in horror. Then they threw down their weapons.

"Now what do we do?" one of the Trolls asked when all the Dwarves were popped into sacks. "If we leave them they'll tell the Rangers we're here. If we kill them we'll have to do it fast and they'll go bad by tomorrow."

What was that all about? Bilbo wondered.

"It's just a day. They'll still be fine when the sun goes down. We can take 'em inside and eat 'em raw."

"I'm not bringing food inside. It'll get all over the treasure. No, Tom, whatever we do we'll do before dawn."

That was it! All he had to do was stall until dawn! He wriggled to his feet, hopping away from the squirming pile of Dwarves.

"Whatever you do, don't eat us!"

The Trolls snorted, trading amused looks. "And why not?"

Why not? He had to think fast. "We're on our way to Rivendell because of the coughing sickness. We all have it."

"What's this coughing sickness?"

"It starts off with coughing," Bilbo said. Thankfully the Trolls' fire was smoky and badly put together and they were all coughing already. At his words, the others stopped trying to hide their coughs.

"We can deal with a cough," the one called Tom said scornfully. He picked up Dwalin.

"Not him! He's gone to the next level!"

The Dwarf was only half lowered. "And what's that?"

Bilbo looked at Dwalin with wide eyes as he tried to think of something.

The Troll snorted and raised the Dwarf again and Bilbo noticed the blood around Dwalin's mouth from the fighting.

"Insides melting!" Bilbo gasped. "They start coughing up blood cause their insides are melting. We hope he can get help 'cause it's just started, but too long and nothing will stop it."

The third Troll spoke for the first time. "I don't want my insides to melt, Tom! Let's let them go!"

"Don't be an idiot, Bert. He's lying for his life."

"You want to bet your life on that?" Bilbo challenged, coughing.

He didn't have to say anything else while the trio argued over what to do with them. He watched as the sky turned lighter and lighter, and before the Trolls even noticed, the sun peeked over the horizon. Before Bilbo's startled eyes they turned to stone.

Nori was out of his sack in an instant, knives flashing through the heavy burlap. He had Dori and Ori in his arms as soon as he was able and the others rushed around, putting out the smoking fire and making sure everyone was safe and well.

Thorin ripped Bilbo out of the sack and pulled him close. "You idiot boy, don't go running ahead on your own!" he cried, squeezing him tight and pressing the Hobbit's head under his chin. "You could have been killed."

"But Bíli saved us in the end," Kíli said in his defense, pressing in to join the hug.

"He did at that," Thorin admitted. "You will be the death of me."

"I'm sorry," Bilbo whispered, hesitantly reaching his arms around his new family. "I thought I could help."

"Of course you can help," Thorin said, voice thick with the relief they all felt. "But it is _my_ job to figure out how. There was time. You didn't need to run ahead without taking anyone's council."

"I'm sorry," Bilbo repeated, grip tightening as the level of their distress became more obvious.

"We didn't lose you. That's all that's important."

Bilbo felt a kiss roughly pressed to his head and breathed out in wonder. For a horror out of nightmares, this part was good. And then he was lifted into Thorin's arms and his uncle wouldn't put him down while they searched for the Trolls' cave.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They rest after the Trolls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short transition chapter.

Bilbo was only a head and a half shorter than Thorin, and while he wasn't a wall of muscle like a Dwarf he wasn't dainty either. He didn't expect to be carried for long, and was surprised when Thorin's arms didn't seem to tire under his weight. They found the Troll's cave, Nori picked the lock, and Nori and Dwalin searched to be sure it was safe before Thorin put him down.

Bilbo stayed near the door. The cold, unwavering light of their torches cast monstrous shadows and he wanted nothing to do with them. None of the others seemed to have any problem, venturing bravely deep into the cave to examine the riches hidden there. He heard exclamations echoing back up to him from various points, and was so curious that he had almost gathered his nerve to follow when he heard his name.

"Bíli, lad, come here!" Dwalin bellowed, his deep voice echoing through the cave.

Bilbo found himself hurrying without conscious thought. He passed Nori, Glóin, and Bofur stuffing whatever they could get their hands on into chests. He passed Ori examining inscriptions and exclaiming over them to a protective Dori. He passed Óin and Balin admiring the shine of jewels. He passed Fíli and Kíli picking through jewelry and discarding anything they didn't think was perfect. He passed Bifur and Bombur rifling through the Trolls' personal items for anything of value.

Finally, he reached Thorin and Dwalin in the back of the cave. There were piles of arms and armor that the pair were going over with all the skill of knowledgeable warriors, and there were a few things set aside.

"There you are, lad," Dwalin said. "Here, take this."

He handed Bilbo a short sword, very different in style to the ones he'd seen the others using. It was a weight in his hand, but not as much as he thought it would be, and he found he could hold it comfortably without losing too much maneuverability. Dwalin tugged his arm, bent it at the elbow, looked at measurements that Bilbo couldn't even begin to contemplate.

"It'll do," he said finally, taking it back and sheathing it. "I'll hold on to it for now."

"What? Why? If it's to be mine...."

Thorin laughed softly as Dwalin just snorted. "Easier to kill yourself if you don't know how to use a sword. Pull it wrong and you'll get thigh and wrist in one blow. Besides, if you have it, others will assume you can use it and go for their own weapons. No, lad, best stick to dodging and hiding for now."

Bilbo frowned, almost certain there was an insult in there somewhere, but he knew enough not to argue with what was really sound logic. He nodded instead, following the pair back toward the entry and the growing light of the morning. The rest fell in behind him, whatever they had decided to keep in their arms or pockets.

They went back to the cars and built their own fire, and once they had eaten Thorin set Fíli and Kíli to watch and advised everyone to sleep.

But how could they sleep? Bilbo felt so keyed up after the Trolls that he was sure he'd never sleep again. He couldn't even lie down and pretend, because being silent and alone would just make him think about what could have happened. He shuddered, looking into the fire and seeing it anyway.

"Can't sleep?" Ori had flopped down next to him and Bilbo was pulled out of his thoughts. "Me neither. Those old warriors can sleep in any moment they have, even when they were just fighting for their lives, but I don't have that ability and I hope I never develop it."

He looked at Bilbo sideways. "Khurud Khuzdul zu onská?"

"Kûla," Bilbo answered with an emphatic nod.

They started to talk in Khuzdul, just simple things that Bilbo was able. It pleased him that he was able to do that much after such a short time, but at the same time it was frustrating that if he wanted to talk about important things he had to return to Westron. His part of the conversation tapered off as he scraped sullen lines in the dirt at his feet.

Ori was quiet a moment, and then he took another stick and began to write. Bilbo leaned down to look. He knew enough to recognize the runes of the Dwarf language, but that was it. When Ori pointed to one of the words and then to Bilbo, the Hobbit understood what he was doing and copied his name. He wondered for a moment which name it was, but the next two names were the same except the first letter, so it was his Dwarf name. He copied those too.

He copied the names of all the company, Ori pointing to who they meant. And then Ori started writing words that used the same letters and making Bilbo read them. He did, haltingly, and copied the writing in the dirt until there wasn't a clear spot near them.

"Not bad for your first time," Ori said with a smile. "Still, if we encounter Dwarves, you'd best say you have word blindness. It runs in Durin's line, so it isn't suspicious. Kíli has a touch of it, and Dwalin never could read or write."

What word blindness meant was quite obvious, and Bilbo glared at Ori for following up a compliment that way. But he could easily see the difference between his letters and Ori's, and he knew the runes wouldn't be automatic enough for him to seem like a well educated young Dwarf. It was for the best no matter how much it galled.

Kíli must have heard something of the conversation, because he swept over the lesson and began writing in large, shaky letters all around them. Ori watched, mouth twitching, which made Bilbo wonder what was being written. He didn't get a chance to ask because Kíli pulled him to his feet and demanded that he practice his unarmed combat.

He blocked, struck, fell, and rolled for what felt like hours. Finally, he kicked out, connecting solidly with his brother's shin. Kíli cried out and fell heavily, still managing to roll to one side and clutch at his leg. Ori laughed until Kíli crashed into him, and then he pushed the other way to keep from going into the fire. Bilbo pushed back again and the three of them got into a scuffle on the ground, Kíli's bruised shin forgotten in laughter.

When they finally stopped, giggling and all piled together, they looked up and up to see Gandalf standing over them. Kíli leapt to his feet then sank down again with a groan of pain. Bilbo hovered anxiously, worried that he'd really hurt Kíli. He hadn't meant to - they were playing a game, and he was at such a disadvantage.

Several of the older members of the party popped their heads up, the lack of noise waking them. They were on their feet quickly at the sight of the wizard, and it was only a moment before Thorin stood between Gandalf and the youngest members of his company.

"Where have you been?"

"Smoothing the way ahead. Elrond expects you, although he doesn't know you travel at night." The wizard eyed the sun, lowering in the west. "It would be best to spend the night here and move out in daylight."

Thorin shook his head. "If the Elf wonders at our timing we can tell him truthfully that we were beset by Trolls and needed rest."

"Trolls? Here?"

"I will tell the story once. Needless to say, it is safe now or we'd not be here. Lead the way, wizard. I would be in safe walls by morning."

The way he reached down and helped Bilbo to his feet somewhat belied the idea of safe walls, and Bilbo remembered that Rangers would likely be everywhere. It was safe for the Dwarves, but he would need to be on his guard every second.

Still, one of his books had a painting of Rivendell, and he couldn't wait to see it in person. He leaned down in turn to help Kíli up, trying to balance the excitement and anxiety at war in his breast. What would come would come. If his father's long illness had taught him anything, it was that.

Kíli got to ride in the cab this time and Bilbo climbed into the back of the truck with Fíli, sitting pressed together from shoulder to knee. As they followed Gandalf's small car to the hidden entry to Rivendell Bilbo asked for childhood stories. This was the first test of his disguise, and he was determined to be ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khuzdul  
> Khurud Khuzdul zu onská? - Do you want to practice Khuzdul?  
> Kûla - yes
> 
> And I think we can assume that whatever Kíli was writing was dirty, offensive, and badly spelled.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rivendell!

Leaning up over the roof of the truck, Bilbo was struck speechless by his first view of Rivendell. It was as lovely as the pictures, but even from this distance he could see that he'd mistaken it. While he had met many Big People, he had never truly transferred thoughts of them and their height to their architecture. Hobbiton was low and rolling, green, comfortable smials dug into the hills and low, tunneling homes nearby them. Rivendell was at the base of the mountains and built almost over a waterfall. The sheer heights and depths of the valley were awe inspiring but at the same time the lines and angles of it put Bilbo uncomfortably in mind of the knives and swords the Dwarves carried.

They drove down into the valley, the buildings growing larger as they neared them, towering into the sky and blocking out the narrow strip of sky that came with being in a deep but thin valley. And then the Big People. So many of them! He had never seen so many Elves and Men in one place before, and no one of the proper size in sight. He found himself pressing back into Fíli, and his oldest brother put a comforting arm around him. Though the circumstances were very different than that first evening in Bag End, it worked as well as it had then.

Bilbo, as the youngest, was in the center of the group when they were treated by Elrond, The Lord of the Elf city. He peered over and around the others to get a look at the Elves, but he knew what they were like. He had seen enough of them in the Shire.

They joined the Elves for their evening meal. It was not up to a Hobbit's standards, and seemed to put the Dwarves off as well. Bilbo enjoyed a salad as much as anyone, but it didn't make a filling or nutritious meal. He nodded silently to Dwalin's and Ori's protests, sitting snugly between his brothers and trying not to draw attention to himself.

They were left to their own devices after. Elves were not nocturnal, so most of them were heading off to bed. Thorin, Elrond, and Gandalf vanished. The rest of the Dwarves wandered in pairs and trios, looking at all the things that the Elves had but they had not. Bilbo included such wonders as electric lights in his wonder. And the room, huge but dark, filled overfill with books. He and Ori shared a look of excitement, knowing they would return thee the next day.

They passed Rangers a number of times. Bilbo ducked his head and pressed closer to the others. Hobbits were good at not being noticed, and he hoped that held true even when he was wearing huge boots that clomped louder than anything he had ever heard before. It seemed to work, and when they were brought to rooms to sleep he had gone unremarked.

The same could be said of the next day. He wandered, sometimes with Ori, sometimes with his brothers. The day was beautiful, and they spent part of it outdoors doing their training. But he and Ori were able to sneak away and go to the library. They stuck to each other's sides to start, but each was drawn to different books and despite the possible danger of exposure, they found themselves drifting apart without even realizing it.

Ori was the kind who pulled out a book and read it cover to cover before touching another. Bilbo just wanted to see what was there. He wandered further and further into the stacks, seeing books in Westron next to books in Sindarin and books in languages that had to be farther south and east than any of his maps went. And before the thought had fully developed, he was looking for maps, wanting to see what the world really looked like.

The one who reached the book down from the shelf - so high Bilbo had been contemplating scaling the shelves to get to it - was lord Elrond himself. He gave Bilbo a look that was so knowing that the Hobbit's breath caught, certain he had been discovered.

"Well, young Dwarf," he said, and something in the quirk of his mouth let Bilbo know for certain that he knew. He froze, but the Elf continued blandly. "You are certainly welcome to look at any of the books in my library, and if any of your party have need of my medicine you have only to ask."

"Thank you," Bilbo stuttered, and fled out the nearest door. It was a bad instinct. He acknowledged that almost as soon as he did it, but he couldn't bring himself to return to face Elrond.

He continued down the unfamiliar hallway. It was a more public one than he had previously been in, and he found himself tuggin at the brim of his hat to make sure it was sufficiently covering. The Big People he passed paid him little mind, though, and he soon grew brave. H stopped to read signs on the walls, finding them full of medical advice.

Elrond was a healer. He had known that, and he soon came to the conclusion that this section of his home was at least in part a hospital. He sneaked looks into examining rooms and marveled at the instruments that were there. Hobbits had some that were similar, but nothing as spare and clean of line as what Elrond had to work with.

Another door at random found him outside. The day had turned wet, but he was quite willing to walk in the rain. If nothing else, it should give some privacy. So he thought, turning his face up into the rainfall and letting it wash over his face. It was kind of peaceful.

But not for long, because a trio of Rangers was walking his way. He panicked, taking a path at random and turning down it.

"You're a Dwarf, aren't you?"

"I am," Bilbo answered, turning to find a child looking at him eagerly. "And who are you, young master?"

"I am Estel, the youngest of Elrond's sons."

He said it with every sign of believing it, but it left Bilbo confused. The boy was obviously a Man, and Elrond was definitely an Elf. There was some story there, but he would likely never hear it. Not when he was hiding one of his own.

"Are you sure you're a Dwarf?" Estel asked, making Bilbo's blood run cold. "You have no beard."

"Not yet," Bilbo answered with complete honesty.

"Then you must be young!" the boy cried excitedly. "Like me! How old are you?"

Bilbo panicked again, because how old should he say he was? He knew nothing about Dwarf ages. "Old enough to know not to ask that kind of question," he said severely. He had learned the line at his mother's knee, and it served him well now. "I am sure it would mean little to you anyway, living among immortal elves."

"Father says I ask too many questions," the boy said, kicking the ground. "But how am I supposed to _know_ if I don't ask?"

"And you did ask, and now you know the answer," Bilbo pointed out. "And now, if you know the way back to the rooms we were given?" It was the closest he could get to admitting he was lost, and the best way to find his way back without Thorin finding out what had happened. He would have Dwalin following him forever if it got back to Thorin.

The boy did know and led him, chattering cheerfully about medicine and his studies, his brothers and the Rangers. They passed Rangers a few times, but Bilbo was able to steer them away safely. No one was looking for him when he got back, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He gave Estel a snack out of his travel pack and sent him on his way, then settled down to look at the atlas he'd borrowed, prepared to swear he'd been there all afternoon if asked, although the dampness of his hat and clothes would give him the lie if he was pressed.

They all came tumbling in as it grew dark, talking quickly over what they had seen and done and what plans they had made for crossing the mountains. Bilbo put his book aside and sat up to listen. They were already so far from his home and they were still going farther. He needed to know everything.

Nori had raided the Elf stores and found that they did have meat after all. They set up their own fire and created their own dinner instead of joining Elrond's household. It was a casual meal, very different from the formal meal the previous night with its servers and musicians. The Dwarves all chattered and ate, moved around the room as they did so and changed partners as freely as forks.

"Uncle," Bilbo said when he found himself near Thorin. "How old should I say I am if asked?"

Thorin considered, knuckles lightly tracing a beardless cheek. Bilbo blushed at the touch and waited. "Sixty," he said finally.

"And how old is that for Hobbits?"

Thorin considered again. "Thirty? Yes. Thirty."

"I'll have you know I'm thirty-eight!" Bilbo declared, aggrieved.

Thorin laughed softly. "Much Fíli and Kíli's age. But with no sign of a beard, you can't be said to be that old. Sixty will do for now. If we need to keep the disguise for long, we'll figure things out more certainly."

Bilbo was still put out, but at the same time slightly pleased. With his father's long illness and then having to take care of his mother, his tween years had been lacking the freedom usually associated with the age. He felt like he had been acting a tween the last few days with the Dwarves. It was good to know that he was basically being passed off as an older tween. He could continue on has he'd been going and not have to worry about if he was being too immature.

Immature! That was a word no one had used to describe him in his life, but he had been feeling it. The Dwarves didn't seem to notice, though, and actually encouraged the tendency in him. He fell asleep that night curled with his brothers, feeling his place among them ever more firmly and knowing that he could never go back to the quiet, lonely smial he had left behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going by my normal way of aging Dwarves, which is complicated and involved, 60 would be the equivalent of 18 - technically an adult, but still generally immature.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They cross the mountains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this was last updated in early February. I never meant it to be this long without updating. If for no other reason than I'm pretty sure I had more plans for Rivendell but now I don't remember them. So we're moving on. I promise it won't be another 10 months before my next update.
> 
> Since the last update, I have gotten [a tumblr](http://judayre.tumblr.com/). Feel free to come and demand that I write, or ask questions, or chat.

They were almost two weeks in Rivendell, restocking their supplies and making plans for crossing the mountains. The roads weren't well kept up, not with Goblins and Stone Giants roaming the mountains, so they would have to leave the cars in Rivendell. They would fill their packs and hike over the mountains, and then see what they could find on the other side.

Bilbo did training every day, determined to not be a burden if it came to another fight. He also returned almost daily to the library with Ori, though he never strayed from him as he had that first day. The threat of Rangers was real, and he was only lucky they didn't see a young Dwarf and equate him with the missing Hobbit. He stayed clear of them as he could, and relied on his quiet when he couldn't.

It was with a sense of relief that he shouldered his pack the morning they left. Rivendell was lovely, but it was bad for his nerves to be there. His pack was heavy, the mountains were dangerous, and they were heading toward a dragon, but it was still a relief. He looked back once and saw young Estel waving, but then he turned his eyes forward.

Bilbo had done a lot of walking when he was young, but climbing up into the mountains was nothing like hiking the rolling hills of the Shire. He was puffing along behind the others very quickly, too out of breath to even ask for a break. His feet dragged, feeling far too heavy, and finally he pulled his boots off and hung them off the side of his pack. He could follow easier after that, though there was still a bit of anxiety left over from Rivendell that someone would see hm barefoot and he would be bundled back to the Shire in disgrace.

They walked for days, getting higher and higher into the mountains where the ground was rockier and the air thinner. They found narrow valleys and small caves to camp in at night. After the work of just climbing, Bilbo found that he often wasn't prepared to train, but he did it anyway. He spent the nights bruised and aching, and slept deeply.

It was the dead of night when a shout came that the rear wall of the cave had vanished. He pulled himself to his feet, blinking sleep out of his eyes, to find that they had been swarmed by Goblins. Their bags and weapons were picked up by their captors, and they were dragged deep into the mountain.

Bilbo hid in his hat, quiet and not drawing attention in the way that only Hobbits were good at. He stayed in the middle of the group, feeling safe with a wall of Dwarves around him even though he knew it was anything but safe. He tried to pay attention to the conversation going on around him, but found that all he could pay attention to was the feeling of having his brothers and friends near him while he waited for death.

It started as the barest hum of sound bouncing off the chamber walls. Bilbo was aware of it from the beginning. Before long, it had been taken up by many voices. It was a martial song, all about the joys of victory. Bilbo could see the battles, feel the flesh of his enemies give way before him. It was exhilarating and his breath sped. The world around him faded and he only barely felt the hand on his arm.

He couldn't say how long it was before he came to himself, but he was still in the Goblin chambers. The Goblins were spellbound by the music as he had been, but he could now pay attention to the complex harmonies and rhythms in the music being sung. They had gathered their belongings and migrated to the edge of the cavern, pausing at a doorway.

"Get ready to run, lad," Dwalin murmured, Bilbo's bags on his back along with his own.

"I'll never keep up!" Bilbo squeaked, looking around nervously to make sure his voice hadn't disturbed the magic of the music.

Without a word, Dori tossed his own pack to Nori and hoisted Bilbo onto his back. He didn't seem out out by the Hobbit's weight, and would hear nothing from Bilbo about how it was too much.

All at once, the singers stopped. As one, the troop of Dwarves ran. There were sounds of pursuit, but even Bilbo didn't risk a glance back. He did his best to point out directions and obstacles to the others, and pretended not to see when one or another would drop back to protect their rear. There were too many Goblins to take them on directly, so any engagement was quick and then the fighter continued to run.

There was an abrupt change in the incline of the path they were following and Dori tripped. He flung out his hands to catch himself, too occupied to notice when Bilbo fell. It was sudden and he fell without a sound, to shocked to even cry out once.

He had the sensation of falling - much farther than just to the ground, there must have been a hole - and just enough time to hope for a soft landing before he hit the ground and rolled to the side. He stopped up against a wall and listened closely for any sounds around him. There were none, and he gave in to his body's urging and passed out.

It was pitch black when he woke, and he had no idea how long it had been. But he knew he was alone. With everything going on, it stood to reason that the Dwarves wouldn't be able to look for him. He was lost inside Goblin infested mountains and had no idea how to get out except that he was the one who had to find the way.

He roped blindly around himself, looking for anything he could use to help himself. His fingers closed on cold metal and he traced the shape to realize he'd found a ring. He put one hand up and found that the ring Fíli had given him was still safe around his neck. So this was a new ring. He slipped it on his finger for safe keeping, and pushed his way to his feet.

One hand resting on the tunnel wall, he started down the tunnel. He wasn't so senseless that he couldn't tell the direction he was going, and he knew he was angled up. He had fallen, so up was where he wanted to go. He stopped at every side passage, leaning in and listening for sounds, feeling the air that came down it.

Finally, after what seemed forever, he saw a slight, grey light and felt fresh air rush past him. He turned and followed, keeping to the side and listening for noise. The passage ended in a doorway, and through it he could see the side of the mountain. But in front of the doorway were armed Goblin guards. He shivered in fear. To be so close and so far.

But the guards seemed to be not paying good attention, and he was a Hobbit. Perhaps if he was very quiet he could sneak by. He scarcely breathed as he stepped out, using all of his natural quietness to keep from being seen and heard. It seemed to work until he was almost at the door, and then one of the guards turned directly toward him. Bilbo froze, although that was an instinct liable to get him killed today.

"What?" the other demanded.

"Thought I smelled something." He stared, seeming to look straight through Bilbo.

"Well, there's no one there, so let's get back to our game."

No one there? Bilbo looked down, but he could see himself fine, and he was out in the open. Still, they turned away and he wasn't going to turn down a gift. He ran for it, diving through the door and into the dim light of the sun setting behind the mountains.

Behind the mountains! He'd made it across! Now, if only he could find the Dwarves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To learn more about the ring from Fíli that Bilbo mentions, go [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1024357/chapters/2618137).


End file.
